


what comes after

by Inthesewords



Series: the long road [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, Talking, post-ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:55:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26826973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inthesewords/pseuds/Inthesewords
Summary: Nobody ever likes to talk about what comes after.Or: After the final battle with the Whisperers, Carol and Daryl clear the invisible rubble.(Post-Ep for 10.16: A Certain Doom)
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Carol Peletier
Series: the long road [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1976890
Comments: 6
Kudos: 56





	what comes after

**Author's Note:**

> Long time reader, first time writer. Was having an emotional hard-on for literally ANY type of meaningful conversation after watching the season 10 finale. Here’s my attempt at doing so.

Nobody ever likes to talk about what comes after.

In the movies (back when there were movies), there’s a scene or two after the climax- the final battle, the confession of love. You typically fast forward in time and get to know what happens, happily ever after.

But this is not like the movies.

After the final battle with the Whisperers, there’s too much to do to comprehend. Like the fact that nobody has slept in over 24 hours, and half their group lost their community in the Battle of Hilltop. They decide to move everyone towards Alexandria while it’s still light out. Eat, sleep, heal. Leave the logistics, like what to do long-term about the remains of Hilltop and its inhabitants, for after.

The march is long and quiet for hours, everyone too exhausted, finally having the time to start processing all that happened. When they arrive in Alexandria, people naturally separate, Hilltop folks following their friends to their respective homes, content to crash on couches and floors. Kelly, Lydia, and a few others follow Daryl and Carol back to their townhouse, wordlessly situating themselves around the living room and settling in for sleep. It would remind Carol of their first night here in the safe zone, if the thought didn’t fill her with even more sadness. She and Daryl were the only ones left.

She watches as he takes Judith and RJ to their bedroom to tuck them in. Feels… _something_ at the sight of it. Before she can think on it more, she slowly climbs the stairs to her room. Barely gets off her shoes before she collapses onto the bed.

For the first time in months, she falls into a deep, dreamless sleep.  
__________________________________________________________

The next morning she awakens to the smell of breakfast and a feeling of peace. Gradually gets herself up and stretches out her sore muscles before wandering down the stairs and towards the kitchen. Daryl is there, cooking up breakfast. She pauses, feeling a sense of deja vu.

“Hey,” she says to him, entering the kitchen with a new sense of weariness.

“Hey,” he responds back over his shoulder.

“Carol,” she hears, turning her head to see Lydia seated at the head of the kitchen table. “Good morning.”

There are sounds of voices from the living room, the rest of the group starting their day. Laughter. Carol falters, then looks around.

Knows it’s not a dream this time.

“Want some coffee?” Daryl asks from the stove.

“I…” she starts, then takes a few more steps back.

“You okay?” Lydia asks. Daryl turns around to see what’s going on.

“I’m gonna go pitch in, see what needs doing,” Carol says quickly, before abruptly turning and purposefully walking out of the house. She shuts the door just as she hears Daryl calling after her.  
__________________________________________________________

Carol felt grateful for the sleep she got, because the day was _long_. Everyone who was able had to clean up and fortify what Beta and his later horde had wrecked in their rampage; find temporary housing for the Hilltop residents in the homes now empty from the previous slaughter. She hadn’t seen Daryl all day, not that she was trying to.

At the end of the night, with the kids off to bed and Lydia officially settled into the house, Carol started up the fireplace and sank into the couch, a pint of Jim Beam -- filched after finding it hidden while helping clean up one of the houses for the new residents -- firm in her hand. Kicking her feet up onto the ottoman before her, she relaxes back into the cushions and uncaps it to take a swig. The liquid burns. It feels right. She sighs into the stillness of the room and stares off into the fire, zoning out and feeling her eyes get heavy.

“Whatcha got there?”

Carol startles, her feet coming off the ottoman as she sees Daryl in the doorway. She repositions herself to the corner of the couch as he enters the room.

“Kentucky’s finest,” she says. She sees him eyeing it and cocks a brow. “I _guess_ there’s enough to share.”

He scoffs as he walks over, but swipes it from her anyway, taking a swig before situating himself on the other end of the couch. “Where’d ya even find this? Thought there was nothin’ left but Mr. Tomlin’s hooch.”

She smirks. “I still have my secrets.”

Daryl looks at her sharply, before looking away. “I bet you do.”

Carol clenches her jaw and watches as he fiddles with the label on the bottle. The silence suddenly becomes heavy.

That’s the thing about what comes after. You think it’s all supposed to be done, resolved. But this is not like the movies. There’s still too _much_. Feelings, secrets, lies have a way of accumulating until it builds a wall that’s impossible to climb over. Even when you knock it down, it leaves a pile of rubble too insurmountable to clean up.

What if, after all seemed to be good with them, there was still too much rubble?

She grabs the bourbon back and takes another drink.

“Judith and RJ are asleep,” she starts. “Were trying to wait up for you, I think, but I got them there eventually.”

Carol sees his mouth twitch, resisting a smile, before she continues. “They’ll be okay, you know. Even while Michonne’s away. Because you’re here.”

He doesn’t say anything to that, so she turns on the couch to face him. “You’re so good with them. And Lydia. They’re lucky to have you.” She looks down at the bottle. “We all are.”

Daryl huffs before stealing the bottle back. “Don’t know about that,” he says, contemplating the bottle. “First Rick, now Michonne’s off god knows where and for how long.” He takes a sip, swallows and shakes his head. “It’s not fair to them. They deserve more than some… second-rate daddy.”

Carol watches him for a moment. “You are second to no one, Daryl Dixon.”

He looks down and bites his lip. She can’t tell for sure in the firelight but knows he’s blushing.

He coughs and says instead, “You left in a hurry this morning.”

Carol nods at that before leaning back into the couch and closing her eyes, breathing deeply. Her pulls of bourbon are finally sinking in. The feeling is foreign after going so long without. She thinks she feels relaxed. She thinks this is what good feels like.

“Before, when I was…. having trouble sleeping,” she starts. “I was trying to avoid the dreams.”

Daryl clears his throat and nods to himself. “I know a thing or two ‘bout bad dreams.”

“These weren’t bad.” She opens her eyes as she rolls her head to the side to look at him. “They were _good_. And that’s what hurt.” She shakes her head lightly at the thought. “It hurts to wake up to your nightmare after all that. Easier to not sleep at all.”

He catches her eye briefly, looking like he’s gonna say something, before thinking better of it and taking another swig.

She tilts her head back against the couch and rolls her shoulders. “This morning when I woke up and came downstairs, you were cooking. Everyone was in a good mood. Things seemed… easy. It was nice. It was just like my dreams. Except this time, it was real. And I’m not sure what to do with a good thing anymore.” She looks at him, but his face is as inscrutable as ever. “That’s why I left in a hurry.”

He says nothing to her admission, which she prefers, as it was only a heady combination of loose lips and liquid courage that led to it. But it feels… good, telling the truth. A small truth, like picking up a rock from the rubble. It’s a good she could get used to.

Carol wiggles her fingers at him, gesturing for the bottle. Daryl takes a pull from it first with a smirk before passing it to her waiting hand.

It’s silent for a while, but for the crackling fire. And that’s good too.

“Maybe you should get used to it,” says Daryl quietly. She raises her eyebrows and looks at him questioningly, as he goes on. “Good, I mean. Maybe it can be like that for awhile.”

Carol grimaces and shakes her head. “We both know better than that. There will always be something.”

“And it could be good for a while too,” he says, voice stronger. “We’re due for somethin’ good. And the kids need it.” He glances over and she sticks out the bottle in an offering, which he accepts before looking back at the fire. He sips it while studying the flames. “You and Lydia seem…” he trails off and squints his eyes, like he does when he’s really considering his words. “What d’ya think ‘bout her staying here permanently? With us?”

Carol stares ahead at the fire too, but sinks more into the couch, her limbs feeling heavy but her head starting to feel light. “Yes. She should stay here. With us.”

His head turns at the content tone of her voice and he looks at her, really looks for the first time all night. Wants to smile at how- _carefree_ she looks right now. But he knows she’s not. Still under the weight of it, but at least they’re here together.

He chews his lip. Doesn’t want to ruin the mood, but can’t remember the last time that they were together without an agenda, and there’s stuff they have to address for things to have a chance to be good.

“Y’know… until Michonne gets back…” he falters, struggling to find the words. “It’ll be the five o’ us here in the house, and we’re gonna be in charge.” He chances a look at her, but he sees her staring into the fireplace once again. “I just… it’s not just me that they have, y’know? They have you.” She turns towards him and he shoulders on. “You okay with that?”

She raises her eyebrows as she looks at him. “Why, because every child I’ve ever cared for is dead?”

His eyes drop at this brutal honesty. He picks at his cuticles as he tries to think of a response. “Cuz you’ve been through more than anybody should ever go through. And it can be hard ta keep caring after that.”

She says nothing, grabbing the bottle from his loose grip and taking a swig before passing it back to him. He accepts it, taking another sip as she turns back towards the fire.

“Lydia said she doesn’t need a mom. That I can be something else. And Judith-- RJ-- they have a mom. It’s just…” she searches for words before closing her mouth again.

Daryl waits her out, staring at the fire along with her.

The warmth Carol feels from the bourbon, the fire, from him, is making her feel something more foreign than good. Maybe this is-- something she’s not felt since she was a kid, so it’s hard to know for sure but-- _safe_. Like maybe the rubble isn’t so insurmountable at all, if he’s there to help try and sift through it.

She tries again. “I didn’t even want to be Henry’s mom, at first. Scolded him, tried to keep him at bay. Same thing with Sam-- remember Jesse’s kid?-- even though it didn’t hurt any less when it turned out I was right in how it might end. And with Judith… as a baby, it felt easier somehow, but now, whenever I look at her, I just get reminded of--“

She stops. Closes her eyes and breathes deeply, relaxing her muscles into the upholstery.

She feels Daryl shift, and as she cracks open her eyes, sees that he’s turned his head towards her once more, but is looking at a point on the floor.

“Sophia?” he questions softly.

Carol’s heart skips a beat. She’s not sure she’s heard him say Sophia’s name since that terrible fight they had all those years ago. Thought it might hurt, but it just spreads the warmth through her chest instead. She slowly raises her hand to lay over her heart, touching the necklace that holds her daughter’s hair tie. Gathers strength from it to do what she knows she must.

“Lizzie and Mika,” she answers.

She hears him take in breath. She swallows and looks up at the ceiling before continuing. “I told you it was worse than that, and it was. I promised Tyreese I wouldn’t-- but it’s all still _right here._ ” Carol’s fingers uncurl from the necklace and tap into her chest for emphasis.

She hears the fire crackling and, the alcohol giving her courage, her eyes seek out Daryl’s. She sees him looking at her, fingers fidgeting on his thigh. Hesitantly, he lays his hand on the couch between them, palm up. She eyes it, weighing the invitation, before removing her hand from the necklace and placing it in his.

“After Rick… I hadn’t gone far when we parted, and the next day I saw the smoke from the prison and headed back. Came across Tyreese and the girls. Eventually we found a pecan grove.” She smiles, looking up at Daryl. “Sophia used to love pecans.”

He squeezes her hand gently, but remains silent. She swallows. She thought she’d feel tense, heavy. But with the liquor and his hand warming her, she feels oddly light. Sees the memories clear as ever, but this time in a distant haze rather than soaked in blood. Like watching someone else’s recollections.

“Thought we could be good there for a while. A nice place to grow old with the girls. Safe. That was, until Tyreese and I came back to find Lizzie covered in blood.” Carol turns her head, still resting on the couch, to look at him. Lowers her voice to a whisper. “Mika’s blood. She’d killed her. Wanted to prove to us that she’d turn. Judith was on the blanket beside her, about to be next.”

She notices Daryl’s breath hitch and closes her eyes, forcing herself to continue. “We discussed options but…. the only way to keep Judith safe was to kill Lizzie. And Tyreese couldn’t.” She sees the memory play out behind her eyelids once again. “After, he didn’t want to tell anyone, said he wanted to forget. And I did too, but I couldn’t. And now…” She squeezes her closed eyes tight. “I _know_. I know it was the only way. I know that I did what I had to do. But I look at Judith and she’s just about Lizzie’s age now. And I see _her_. Am reminded of what I did to her...for her.” Carol’s empty hand rubs at her eye before setting back down. “It’s not that it’s hard to care. It just hurts to.”

Her body, already relaxed from the Jim Beam, seems to release the last of the tension it was holding. But Daryl’s let go of her hand as well. Starting at that realization, she opens her eyes to look for him, but finds him sitting on the ottoman directly in front of her, leaning forward, looking right at her. His face is wet. Returning her hand up to her cheek, she feels that hers is too.

He takes her other hand back and holds it between his two, swallowing hard. “What I said before…” he looks down at their hands before looking up at her again. “I meant it. Nothin’ ya do could ever make me hate you. Don’t doubt that.” She puts her other hand on top of his. He strokes his thumb over it. “Thank you. For telling me.”

She smiles, tears still flowing freely. “You’re the one I tell, right?”

He smiles, a rare genuine smile that she never thought she’d see again, teeth and all. “Damn right. Always.” His head hangs a little as he looks back at their hands, his smile starting to turn serious. “Even when ya think I won’t understand or agree.”

She straightens at that, sitting up a little, and chews the inside of her lip. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Negan.”

Daryl peers up at her from between the hair falling into his face. “Why didn’t ya?” He asks, voice gruff.

She sighs in defeat, shrugging one shoulder helplessly. “You didn’t want to talk about it back then, but I know what he did to you. And I could’ve killed him for it.” Daryl looks off the side and she leans forward to get closer, their foreheads now inches apart. “But that also made him expendable to me. Two birds, one stone, if he could do it quickly. But he didn’t. And everything…” She shakes her head. “It mostly just caused more pain.”

Daryl looks back towards their hands as he formulates his response. “I get that. Don’t like it, but I get it. And I could get over it if you had just…. talked ta me. _Trusted_ me. Instead, ya acted like you were expendable too. And no matter what I did, it wasn’t enough. Instead, ya _lied_ ta me. Told me ya wouldn’t be reckless no more and then… “ He squeezes her hand before letting go again, clasping his hands behind his neck.

Carol looks up at him briefly, but he doesn’t meet her eyes. Cautiously, she rests a hand on his knee. “I did think I was expendable. I wanted that, if it meant that everything else could _mean_ something. That others could go on. That you could.” She rubs her thumb on his leg and worries her lip. “But I’m here. I’m with you. That’s what I really want.” He doesn’t respond, and she slowly starts pulling her hand away. “I still can’t lose you.”

Daryl reaches out and stops her hand, circling his fingers around it before it retreats completely. He raises his eyes to hers. “What makes ya think I could lose _you_?”

Carol holds her breath, heart rate increasing. “You’ve got other people --”

“ _You’re_ my people,” he says resolutely.

He’s holding her gaze now, hand still clutching hers. She lowers it back to his knee and holds it there.

“You’re mine too.”

They sit with it, knees pressed together, foreheads nearly touching. The fire crackles behind Daryl. Carol smells bourbon and tobacco on his breath.

The door creaks open, and both jump in their seats, springing apart. RJ shuffles through.

“Uncle Daryl, I can’t sleep.”

Daryl catches Carol’s eye and huffs out a laugh before turning to RJ. “A’right, little man. I’ll be right there.”

They both watch RJ walk back down the hallway, the spell momentarily broken. They look at each other again, before Daryl nods at her, placing his hand on her leg to steady himself as he gets up to leave. “This may take a while. He has trouble sleeping whenever ‘chonne’s not here. Guess that bottle’s yours to finish now.”

She nods back as he walks towards the door.

“Hey Daryl?”

He stops and looks back toward her.

She grins. “You’re an honorable man.”

Slowly, he grins back, before ducking his head and continuing out of the room.

She scoots back onto the couch, relishing in feeling warm. Weightless. Free.

They have more to talk about, but they’ll get there.

After.


End file.
